


not a complexion for roses

by preromantics



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A <i>The Bachelor</i> AU. <i>Chris doesn't okay it with the producers, although he knows at least one of them knows what is going on.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	not a complexion for roses

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 6/25/10. Un-beta'd comment!fic romp.

Chris doesn't okay it with the producers, although he knows at least one of them knows what is going on.

(The producer had said early on, after walking in on Chris with his head on Zach's shoulder, tears in his eyes from laughter that had made him double over, "This is okay, as long as it doesn't last." Chris didn't expect it to last at first, either. Zach the camera man was a good distraction from the airheaded conversations Chris had to endure on a daily basis on camera; talking about literary greats and quoting Chris' favorite movies.

Zach was a distraction, a good one, from the first episode of the Bachelor where he'd been holding his camera behind Chris and making hilarious comments as each of Chris' lovely candidates walked past him after their initial meeting from the limo.

He had said: "I tried those heels on in the store, and they looked trashy even on me, and that's saying something," and, "I think people normally wear that color to compliment their eyes; she seems to be wearing it to compliment her boobjob and I don't think it worked."

Then Zach had been sent in to film Chris' confessionals, and then he'd gone on trips with Chris and the girls, and then they were on a yacht and Chris needed a break from the hot tub and the laughter and the cameras in his face, and Zach was at the bow of the boat, and they reinacted Titantic to relieve some of Chris' stress except -- they didn't stop when it came time for the kiss, and they kissed up against the bow of the boat and then slid down the railing and stayed there, Zach's fingers pressing into Chris' jaw, Chris' hand on the small of Zach's back, until someone came to find the Bachelor.)

Now, though, it was the end of it all. Chris hadn't distanced himself from Zach, although he had told himself to. Instead, the night before, they had stayed up all night in Chris' room after shooting his confessional for the next day, and Zach helped Chris decide which of the two remaining girls to pick with wry and less-than-insightful comments. Zach was sarcastic, but somehow seemed willing to help Chris debate the pros and cons of each woman: body types, conversational output and input, favorite authors, and he didn't seem as torn up over the end of it all as Chris did.

As they were debating, all Chris wanted was for Zach to crawl further across the mattress they were lounging on and tell Chris that both his choices were the wrong ones, and that the right one was in front of him. Except, Zach was good -- he knew the boundaries of his job, and he seemed to know Chris' boundaries better than himself. Except Chris didn't want the gap between them, the one that proclaimed Chris the (reluctant, stupid bar bets back home) star of a reality TV series, and Zach, the (reluctant, looking for work in the industry,) cameraman of the same reality TV series, as unequals.

Except when they were done debating over the two girls -- Zach was in favor of the blond that didn't like Hemingway, but knew who all the Beat authors were, but Chris always preferred brunettes, anyway -- Zach had to leave (always had to leave) but Chris grabbed for his hand, twisting over his mattress to the vase of roses that decorated his end table, and grabbed one with his free hand to present to Zach.

"Will you except this rose?" he asked, barely managing to keep a straight face.

Zach rolled his eyes and practically -- god Chris was stupid, giving all this up -- pounced back onto the mattress and on top of Chris.

"No," Zach said, laughing into Chris' neck, "because we're not in a Harlequin Blaze novel."

"The fact you know that roses are a frequent plot point of Harlequin Blaze novels disturbs me," Chris said, as Zach dragged his lips down his throat, dry. He let Zach work him open and didn't think about the next day, or the final rose ceremony, complete with the creepy host's voice-over in his head.

Chris really doesn't okay it with the producers, although he thinks about it. Then, though, Zach would know, and everything would fall apart, and it wouldn't work -- and Chris was absolutely crazy to be doing this live on national television, almost as crazy as ABC was to actually be airing the final rose ceremony live for the first time ever.

Chris had trouble buttoning the pressed shirt for under his suit, and Zach, who was there to film Chris getting ready, turned the camera off, stepped forward -- quieter than Chris had ever seen him -- and buttoned his shirt carefully for him.

Chris almost wanted to tell him his plan, but Zach gave him a small, sort of forced looking smile, and said, "You'll be fine, it's almost all over," before he stepped back to get a shot of Chris, rather awkwardly, fixing his tie.

The producers kept accosting Chris for his decision. "We need to know who you are picking so we can spin the commercial breaks in the right direction," one of them said.

Chris rolled his shoulders back. He felt a little caught. "I'm going to roll with it," he said, with a laugh that sounded awful to his own ears, "because I'm not sure yet."

"Roll with it," the producer repeated, slowly nodding, "I guess that could work. Might increase ratings and press, after, if you say you weren't sure."

Chris almost laughed again at the thought of how much press the show was really going to generate that night. He didn't though, he just nodded and bounced a tiny bit on his heels. "Right," he agreed, and the producer was pleased.

Chris did roll with it: when the cameras were finally on him, a Hawaiian backdrop of a blowing breeze, the waves crashing along the shore behind the pavilion he was standing in, one rose stupidly sitting on a table in front of him, he made his choice.

The first girl was easy, the blond one that Zach said to pick. "I'm sorry," Chris said, meaning it, "you were great, and when you quoted Kerouac on the first night, I fell a little bit in love, but, not enough."

She looked like she was going to cry -- a response which Chris had seen too many times over the course of the show -- but she didn't. She nodded, and they hugged, and Chris thought about how Zach had recited at least half of Ginsberg's  _Howl_  once while they were half-drunk coming off filming a rose ceremony, and how that was better than quoting one line of Kerouac any day.

The next girl was a little bit harder, only because Chris knew that once he said she wasn't the one, half the people surrounding them, filming and producing and editing as they were live, would freak out. He steadied himself with a breath.

"You -- you aren't the one for me, either," Chris told her, after praising their time together to soften the blow. She looked at him with wide eyes, and Chris didn't have to look around to see group of people on set around him about to freak out in a nano second. Chris leaned in a gave her a quick hug and maybe crossed his fingers behind his back, even though he knew it wouldn't help.

He cleared his throat and stepped back. "There is someone, though," he said, sort of in a rush. "Here right now."

In the little ear piece he was wearing, someone finally spoke up, one of the producers, the woman who was short and wore absolutely terrifying heels. "What are you doing?" she asked, quietly harsh, and he reached up to scratch the ear piece off his ear as smoothly as possible.

The girl in front of him hurried away and down the steps, and Chris closed his eyes, turned to the three cameras in front of him. For the first time since he had walked out to the pavilion, he caught Zach's eye, Zach who had been watching the whole thing, who's jaw was set in a hard line.

Chris sucked in a breath and looked straight at Zach's camera. "When I came here," he said, as though addressing the audiences at home watching, "I didn't expect much -- I came on a bar bet from my friends back home. The bar owner said I'd get free food and drinks for life if I went through with this, and I also thought maybe it would work out. Relationships aren't really my thing. I came without high expectations, but was surprised by some of the woman I met, and also by someone else -- and --"

Chris paused, because now Zach was peering over the top of his big studio camera, eyes a little too wide for his face, in a way that was sort of stupidly endearing, so Chris grinned and steadied himself.

"I didn't think it would go beyond a night with this person, but then they were by my side every day, and they were the most amazing person I had ever met, and --" Chris didn't want to ramble, and he knew he was dangerously close to having the live feed cut, so he stopped. "Zach," he said, almost forgetting to breathe on the word, "come up here?"

Zach didn't look like he was going to, even though he was halfway around his camera anyway. Chris stepped back on the platform to grab the rose and someone in the background, possibly a network executive, said, "Oh, fuck," out loud, loud enough to probably be picked up by the cameras.

Zach shook his head, once, but stepped forward anyway as he was doing it. He wasn't in a tux, he was in jeans that made Chris really appreciate his ass, and a ridiculous stripped v-neck shirt that was probably from American Apparel or something.

"Hey," Chris said, this time not towards any camera at all, just towards Zach.

"You're crazy," Zach said, but he didn't sound upset about it in the least.

"I know." Chris said, grinning wide. He twirled the rose in front of Zach's face. "So, will you except this rose?" he asked.

"I don't know," Zach said, after a second, even though he was grinning sort of stupidly back at Chris.

Chris hit Zach in the nose with it. "Red isn't my color," Zach elaborated. Chris dropped the rose and stepped closer to him. No one on the set was saying anything at all, and Chris didn't even know if they were still on TV -- god, he sort of hoped they weren't, because everyone was going to see just how much he was sort of hopelessly in love with Zach, the camera man, the guy with the great ass and better sense of humor, and --

"Alright," Chris said, "then -- Will you come home with me and stay forever?"

As far as proposals, in the show's history, at least, went, that was probably the least elegant and most inept ever, and it wasn't even a proposal, but.

"Now you're crazy and stupid," Zach told him. Chris sucked in a breath, but Zach leaned in all the way, near enough for their lips to almost be brushing. "But, yes," Zach said, "because I guess I'm crazy and stupid, too."

They kissed, and it was awesome, and Chris almost wanted to pick Zach up and swing him around, but he didn't want to fall on national television, so he just licked into Zach's mouth instead.

"Fuck yes," Chris said when they broke apart, and the censors were going to have another fit, but that was okay, because Chris was taking Zach home and no one else and they weren't going to leave his bedroom for  _days._


End file.
